


A Gift

by wakingupslow



Category: The Long Walk - Richard Bachman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And maybe it's McVries turn to be saved, Ending Fix, Fix-It, Inexplicable connections, M/M, McVries saves Garraty, Second Chances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:49:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24216199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wakingupslow/pseuds/wakingupslow
Summary: On the last opt-out date, Garraty is shocked to find a dark-haired ghost with a scarred cheek sitting on his bedroom desk.He's even more surprised when he hears what the ghost wants him to do.
Relationships: Ray Garraty & Jan, Ray Garraty/Peter McVries
Comments: 14
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

_Death—rather like life—didn’t go quite as McVries expected._

_For a start, there was no pain, which was welcome. Or maybe “no pain” wasn’t accurate. More, there was a blinding, brief flash of—something—that didn’t ever get the chance to be interpreted as pain by his central nervous system. The problem here being, of course, that his central nervous system was ripped clean in half by a well-placed bullet. A spanner in the works, a bullet in the brain._

_He had expected fire, cackling, smoke and brimstone. Or, failing that, maybe even pearly white gates. An angel or two. Failing either of those, he guessed he expected a great nothingness._

_Instead, he was given a choice. He was in a (void), where there was no time or space, but there was still him. And there was a (voice), although there was no sound, and the voice was both around him, and inside of him, and part of him. And the voice told him—_

_It told him he could go back. He could choose to move onwards, or go back. For a brief moment._

_It told him that was the gift given to those who exchange their life for someone else’s. The chance to live again, if only for a moment. To tie up loose ends, of a sort. To finish whatever needed to be finished._

_McVries felt he’d rather set something new in motion, if he was going to be given the chance. Why make a neat end, if you could create a chaotic beginning? He’d never been a stickler for the rules, after all._

_And a moment was all he needed._


	2. Chapter Two

Garraty’s bedroom door and window were both shut tight, and he was home alone. Neither his door or window had opened at any point since he’d climbed onto his bed to read. All of this to say, essentially, it was impossible for anyone else to be in the room with him.

Which is why it gave him the shock of his life when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a boy sitting crossed legged in the middle of his desk. 

The only weapon Garraty had was the hard cover book he was holding, and he launched it at the intruder with full force. It went straight through his body, as though it were made of air, and ricocheted off of the wall.

Well.

Garraty had a bad feeling about this.

“Who are you?” he asked, leaping to his feet. He’d given away his one weapon, and the only thing in his reach was his pillow. He decided brandishing that wouldn’t add much to his threatening demeanour, so he went weaponless.

The boy, who was sitting crossed-legged like a first-grader, looked unruffled. He had thick, dark hair—almost black in color—and a prominent scar marring one cheek, a flash of white against creamy skin. “My name’s Peter McVries,” he said, “and I’ve gotta talk to you. Quick. We don’t have much time.”

Garraty stood in place, uncertain. That wasn’t what he’d expected to hear. After a pause, he collected himself, and opened the door to his bedroom. “Get out.”

“No. Listen, Ray, you have to pull out of The Walk. I know you don’t want to, trust me, I know, but you don’t understand what it’s like.”

“What do—how do you know my _name_?”

Oh. The announcements. That must be it. This guy had found him through the lottery announcements, and broken into his house, and—

The book had gone _straight through him_ , hadn’t it? Garraty hadn’t imagined that?

Garraty planted his feet to steady himself while McVries replied. “Okay, it’s gonna sound crazy, but we don’t have long, so you’re just gonna have to believe me, okay? You and I were in The Walk together, and we made it to the end—”

“If you don’t leave right now, I’m calling the police.”

“—and I _died_ , and I got the chance to fix one thing, and this is the thing I’m fixing because you are not going on that damn walk, Ray, and—”

“I have a gun, too,” Garraty lied.

“—you told me, Ray, you _told me_ you would take it all back if you could, and you didn’t even know why you went in! It’s not what you think, right now it feels distant, like it’s not real, but then you’ll get there and it _is_ real, and you meet people and you fa—you bond with them, and you watch their heads blown in. And your feet, by the end of it they’re raw, your skin’s gone.”

Garraty decided he’d had enough. He shot through the door and down the hallway, with McVries trailing after him, his tone growing ever more urgent. “Ray, you’re agreeing to days and days of physical and emotional torture, just to be shot at the end of it all. Why would you want that? Think about it. Stop ignoring me and _think about it—stop_!”

Garraty had almost reached the front door. If this stranger wouldn’t leave, there was no way in hell he was staying inside the house with him, alone. But as he reached out to open the door, McVries grabbed his wrist and yanked it back. So Garraty _had_ imagined the book thing. A trick of the light. Relief rushed over him like a tidal wave. He wrenched his hand out of McVries’ grip. “Don’t touch me.”

“You’re not going anywhere. You have to call them and back out. Right now.” McVries’ face was deathly serious, his jaw set.

Garraty could tell from the hardened look in his eyes that he completely believed what he was saying. In other words, this guy was insane. “If you’ve met me, then you should know that’s not happening,” Garraty said, trying to shove past McVries.

The other boy held firm. “Look—no. I’m not like Jan, or your mom, or her boyfriend. I’m not here to guilt you. I’m here to tell you that y _ou regret this_. Not that you might, or that you’ll hurt someone, or any of that shit. You _do_ regret doing this.”

“How do you know Jan?”

“Have I been talking to the goddamn wall for the last five minutes? I. Know. You. I know your dad got squadded, and I know you like to knit, and I know . . . I know Jan told you she’d go all the way with you if you pulled out, so, you have that going for you now, I guess. I know you only saw one walk, with your dad. And I, um—oh, I know that you had a big shindig to celebrate you being a walker, and everyone was giving you speeches and fussing over you like a prized pig.”

How long had this guy been stalking him? How had he found out all this stuff? Adrenalin coursed through Garraty’s veins, and he lashed out to shove McVries away from him. His hands went straight through, like nothing was there, and he fell against the door, hard. McVries backed away, his hand still pressed against the door, blocking Garraty. It seemed solid. He’d touched Garraty, so he was solid.

He had to be solid. But Garraty couldn’t touch him.

“Let me out,” Garraty said. To his disgust, he couldn’t quite hide the tremble in his voice. Something was very wrong. Truthfully, everything seemed to be very wrong, but his brain wasn’t quite ready to process that.

“I’m not going to do that.”

“ _Please_.”

“Call the number, Ray.”

“I can’t! Don’t you see that I can’t? Please, just—just let me go. Please.”

McVries was shaking his head, though, and Garraty felt a full-blown rush of fear at last. So he did the only thing he could think of. He broke into a sprint.

McVries appeared in front of him as Garraty reached the hallway, and Garraty collided hard with his suddenly all-too-solid body. The blunt force sent Garraty careening backwards, and he slammed hard into the wooden floor, the air knocked out of his lungs. He lay motionless, staring at the ceiling as he tried desperately to get his air back, and a pressure on his shoulders told him McVries was pinning his shoulders down. Garraty lifted his head and made eye contact with him. “Please, don’t,” he croaked.

“I don’t want to, but you’re not being cooperative, and we don't have time.”

“Help,” Garraty forced out, in a voice too thin to attract any attention.

“Ray, I don’t want to hurt you. Just make the call, please.”

Garraty bucked, so suddenly it threw McVries’ hands off of him. “HELP!” he screamed, his voice returning at last. “HELP ME, SOMEONE! PLEASE!” He scrambled away from McVries on his elbows, reaching for something, anything, to defend himself with. Then, his eyes locked onto the glass vase. It was perched on an end table, close enough that he could make it, he could almost certainly make it. It was a gift to his mother for her most recent birthday. Sometimes she filled it with attractive weeds to add some color into the house.

And he could reach it.

He threw himself forward, reaching, half on his knees, half-standing. His outstretched fingers almost closed around it. But McVries got there first.

Garraty changed directions, crawling backwards. There was nowhere to go, though. No nearby doors. No open windows. And Mcvries was too fast. Too strong. And he couldn’t be hit. He couldn’t fight back. Was this how he died? After all that, he died like this?

“I’m sorry,” McVries said.

“Please,” Garraty said. “Whatever you think I did to you—”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“Then don’t. Don’t—HELP! HE—”

McVries swung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's amazing to me people can read tlw without picking up on the vibes between Garraty and McVries. ALTHOUGH, it took me something like 10 reads before I noticed it myself. Funnily enough, I noticed it after coming out. Before then I took it at face value, but I think coming out helped me become familiar with coding and implications and reading between the lines a little. So I try not to get too frustrated whenever I see threads about how their relationship was more like a "mentorship" (oh my god). 
> 
> I'm sorry, no platonic mentor of mine would ever sacrifice their own life to save mine. McVries' feelings are, in my opinion, not up for debate. Garraty's are vaguer, but definitely still there, I feel. His obsession with McVries, the fact that McVries' face replaces Jan in his dreams, the history of playing doctor and being shamed for it so badly it messed up his confidence in his own sexuality and forced him to associate the experience with disgust, Stebbin's comment about the "touch of the lavender". . . I just don't buy that Stephen would've written all that into the book for no reason, or to be confusing. Questioning your sexuality when straight is valid, but that's not the vibe I got. And Garraty almost died himself when Mcvries went. He didn't do that with any of his other platonic relationships, no matter how much their deaths killed him. 
> 
> Anyway, sorry for getting on my soapbox, just needed to rant and hoping someone might join in in the comments because there's NO ONE IN MY LIFE who cares enough about this book to enter a discussion with me on it!!! 
> 
> Either way, I hope you all enjoy. We're just getting started.


	3. Chapter Three

It was the agony that brought Garraty back to consciousness. At first, he couldn’t quite tell where the pain was coming from. It seemed to be all-consuming. The pain was him. Finally, it settled into a singular point. His left leg.

He didn’t need to look at it to know it was broken.

Garraty let his head fall back against the wooden floor. McVries had left him where he fell. He didn’t seem to be here anymore. Or, at least, he wasn’t anywhere in Garraty’s direct line of vision.

With an almighty grunt, Garraty hauled himself to a sitting position, and whimpered in pain. He didn’t look at his leg—he couldn’t bear it. Instead, he dragged himself, slowly, painstakingly, to the hallway, where they kept the phone. Half a lifetime later, he’d finally managed to prop himself up in front of it and dialled the number of his mom’s work.

“Mom,” he choked when she answered. “I fell down the stairs. I think my leg’s broken.”

While he waited for her to rush home, he leaned against the end table. He had no energy—or inclination—to move, and she’d be at least ten or fifteen minutes. As he shifted to get comfortable, something sharp dug into his stomach, and he realised for the first time there was something inside his jacket pocket.

Four folded pieces of paper. Garraty recognized it as his own notebook paper. McVries must have torn the pages free. Each page was folded over, with a name scrawled on the front. _Mom. Dad. Katrina. Ray._

With shaking hands, Ray opened the letter addressed to him.

_Dear Ray,_

_I hope, in time, you’ll forgive me. I suppose it doesn’t matter if you never do. It makes no difference to a dead man._   
_Still. It matters a little. I want you to think well of me in this timeline. I guess I’m selfish like that, huh? Do me a favor. Watch it. Look for me. I’m number 61. Look for Baker. Parker. Olson. Pearson. Harkness. Abraham. Scramm. Watch them die, if you can bear it, and know they were your friends. On those long days, you got to know them, and you watched each of them die, and it destroyed you. Please, imagine it. Please, try to understand why I did what I did._   
_Live like a dying man who would trade anything he owns for another moment of freedom. Use your moments._   
_You aren’t disposable, Ray._

_Yours forever,_   
_Peter McVries_

_P.S - If you could find it in your heart to send the other letters to their addressees when I'm dead, I couldn't tell you how much it would mean to me. All of them need to get to 3 Sherman St, Passaic, NJ. I understand if you don't. You'd be well within your rights._

Garraty scrunched the paper up in his fist and let out a scream of frustration.

*

Jan burst into tears when she saw him on the couch. They weren’t tears of sympathy for his plight, though, oh no. No sympathy for Garraty, propped up by pillows, his battered leg encased in a white cast, unable to do simple tasks for himself. No, they were tears of joy.

Well, she’d gotten what she wanted.

Both Jan and his mother spent the night fussing over him, bringing him drinks and food, fluffing his pillows, stroking his hair, putting whatever he wanted on the TV. Garraty didn’t enjoy a second of the attention. He just lay there, his head swimming in confusion and grief. The only thing that was certain was that he’d imagined Peter McVries being impossible to touch. It was stupid that he’d ever believed that, really. What had happened was the other boy was ridiculously agile and flexible. He’d dodged Garraty’s hands. He didn’t appear out of nowhere—he simply moved faster than Garraty. Garraty had been overwhelmed, and dizzy, and the shock of everything had caused his brain to misinterpret what was happening. It was just a lag.

Of course, he still wasn’t quite sure how McVries had gotten into his room without making a sound, and without Garraty noticing him opening the door. He must have been more into his book than he’d realized.

Jan perched on a faux-leather armchair she and his mother had dragged to adjoin with the couch, methodically running her fingers through Garraty’s hair. Usually, he’d be lost in a cloud of bliss at the touch. Tonight, it barely broke through the haze of depression. He’d lost it. Against all odds, he’d been in the walk. Only hours ago he’d found out he was a primary. And it’d been taken from him.

He didn’t know why he hadn’t told anyone the truth. That a crazed madman named Peter McVries had broken into his house and attacked him. He supposed the story sounded too odd to be true. To add to it, Garraty was confused enough about his own recollection of events, that he worried trying to explain that day to a police officer would get him locked up in a psych ward somewhere. No, the stairs story was safer, cleaner.

On the TV, the hourly update of walkers came onscreen. The day before the Walk commenced was always a flurry of excitement, as gamblers scrambled to make and alter their bets in line with the updated primary line up.

As the names started to flash across the screen, Garraty stilled and scanned. There were the names McVries had mentioned in his letter—Baker, Parker, Abraham, Pearson . . . the list went on. But McVries’ name wasn’t there. The fact that McVries had referred to other primary walkers in his letter meant nothing about . . . nothing. He’d had as much access to the names on the primary walker list as everyone else did this morning.

That’s when Garraty finally understood. McVries had found out he was a secondary this morning. He must have been maddened by it. Enough to hunt down another primary walker and knock him out of the contest. But even Garraty losing his spot hadn’t been enough to get McVries onto the primary list. Really, what a ridiculous plan. There were a hundred secondaries, after all: what, was he going to knock them all off, one by one, over the course of the day, until he got bumped up?

Wait . . . did that mean Garraty wasn’t the only one McVries had paid a visit to that day? Maybe Garraty should’ve told the truth after all. Maybe, at this very moment, Peter McVries was out there in the middle of a violent assault spree that Garraty could’ve prevented. The thought gave him more than a touch of worry.

“Ray, what’s the matter?” Jan’s soft voice cut through the fog of confusion and concern. A beacon. “You look scared.”

Garraty wiped his face clean and placed his hand on top of hers. “Nothing. Just in a bit of pain. I think the Advil’s worn off.”

“Wait here. I’ll get you some more.”

The walkers update had finished at this point. Garraty cursed himself. He should’ve taken note of the names on the screen, to see if an unusual amount had dropped out by the next update. Now that he thought about it, he hoped McVries did get the primary spot he so desperately wanted. God only knew what he’d be capable of if he didn’t get it. And if he did get in, well, he wouldn’t be much of a problem for anyone anymore, would he?

Jan returned with a glass of water and some pills, which Garraty knocked back gratefully. When she settled back into her seat, she stared at him with such an intense thoughtfulness that he couldn’t help but prop himself up to face her. “What?” he asked.

“I wanted to ask. Did you, um . . . Was the fall really an accident?”

Garraty stiffened, and something in his chest thumped. “What do you mean?”

Jan shifted in her seat. “Well . . . if, say, you’d felt like it was the only way to pull out without getting judged by the town . . . you know, I’d understand that.”

Garraty blinked. “It was an accident.”

The look Jan gave hi was odd. Half-pitying, half-adoration. In any case, it wasn’t the kind of look a person gave to someone they believed. “Okay then.”

“It was.”

“It doesn’t matter either way. The only thing that matters is you’re safe. You’re here.”

Garraty thought back to the letters, which he’d stashed in his desk drawer.

Yup. He was here alright.

The end of his great adventure before it’d even begun. And he couldn’t even get some goddamn sympathy out of the bargain. And as for Jan’s promise—

_"I know Jan told you she’d go all the way with you if you pulled out, so, you have that going for you now, I guess—”_

Joke was on him, because the terms and conditions had specified Garraty needed to pull out voluntarily to redeem. Not valid in events of violent assault and / or clumsiness resulting in injury. Not that he relished the idea of losing his virginity on his back with a bum leg, but still. Talk about adding insult to injury.

Although, now he thought about it, that was especially odd, wasn’t it? The other information McVries had on him—the squadded father, the penchant for knitting, the dinner and speeches – it was information anyone could find, if they only asked the right people. But Jan’s promise had been private. Garraty hadn’t told a soul. So how in the hell had McVries scavenged that little morsel of information?

Garraty glanced up at Jan. She was watching TV, her expression content. Was she . . . somehow involved in this? Did she know McVries? Had she wanted him to pull out so bad that she’d—

 _Stop,_ Garraty chided himself. _You’re spiralling. Paranoid._

Of course. It was crazy to think that Jan would—no. She must have told one of her mouthy girlfriends. Half the town probably knew Raymond Garraty had turned down sex—had signed up to walk a virgin. There’d probably been a dozen uproarious gossip sessions about it, as the tidbit had travelled through the grapevine.

Sure. That made plenty of sense.

But still. The uneasiness gnawing at his gut wasn’t abating any.

If anything, it was growing.


	4. Chapter Four

At eight A.M the next morning, when Garraty had painstakingly manoeuvred himself downstairs with the use of his crutches to set himself up on the couch without bothering to pause for breakfast, he was both relieved and terrified to see that Peter McVries was now a primary walker.

The good news was that, for the first time, the information McVries had rattled off to Garraty the day before had failed to predict something. Because McVries wasn’t number sixty-one at all. He was number sixty.

Of course, sixty _was_ close to sixty-one. Almost too close for comfort. But it wasn’t a one-in-a-hundred guess. McVries had obviously known the numbers were designated alphabetically. Some quick maths after looking at the primary walkers would’ve told McVries ahead of time his rough position in the line up. He’d taken a guess, and, close, ladies and gentlemen and all our good friends listening at home, but no dice.

Garraty suddenly found himself in better spirits. Not _good_ , per se—he was still furious to be couch-ridden, when he should at this very moment be pulling in to the starting point, full of adrenalin and excitement—but better. Enough that, when his mom poked her head in the living room to ask if he’d like some breakfast, he nodded enthusiastically and requested an extra egg. If he was going to be trapped here, he might as well settle in for a five-star viewing experience.

Garraty’s mother didn’t join him in front of the TV. It had been an unspoken rule in their house that they more or less pretended the Walk didn’t exist, even before Garraty’s father had gone away. They didn’t talk about the reasons, but Garraty had always gotten the feeling his mother shared his father’s views on the brutality of it. Luckily, she possessed the wisdom to keep her opinions to her chest. Unlike his father.

His mother didn’t question his sudden wish to watch the Walk. Surely, it was only natural that Garraty would want to see what he’d almost been a part of, right? She must have understood that on some level.

The camera panned over the walkers as they started to take their places. This would be the only real footage they got of the Walk until the third day or so. There was no point in filming earlier, he supposed. Not many got their tickets on the first day. It’d make for dull viewing, and people would lose their interest, ultimately.

Garraty wasn’t sure he would, personally. But there was always the radio commentary to last him until then.

Finally, the TV camera panned past a familiar face. There was McVries, wearing a green hooded jacket and jeans. The exact same outfit he’d worn the day before. That, along with the scar, made it impossible to confuse him for anyone else. He looked jumpy, arms pulled across his front, glancing around at the other boys as they waited for nine o’clock.

_Yeah, I bet you’re jumpy_ , Garraty thought viciously. _Busy day for you, yesterday._

“Here you go, honey.” Garraty’s mother came in with a breakfast tray, and he struggled to prop himself up to eat it. His leg was giving him hell.

“Thank you.”

His mother glanced at the television, and it caught her attention. She watched as the camera panned across the gathered teenage boys, something unreadable on her face. For a moment, Garraty could’ve sworn she almost shook her head, but it was impossible to tell. Then she looked at him, her lip trembling. “Can I get you anything else?”

“More Advil would be great, please.”

Garraty wondered where he would be standing. Of course, if McVries was to be believed, he would probably be beside Baker, number three, and Olson, sixty-nine. Or maybe chatting to Abraham, number two.

Yesterday, he’d woken up feeling as though he could walk endlessly. And he could’ve, he bet. It would’ve been him. He simply wouldn’t have sat, wouldn’t have slowed. Then the prize—and all its glory—would’ve been his.

What was there for him now? What future?

He took an aggressive bite of toast.

*

When Jan arrived to visit him that evening, Ray heard his mother giving her a whispered briefing in the hallway.

_Just been sitting there all day . . . not in a good mood . . . be gentle with him, velvet gloves . . . Didn’t eat any dinner._

Garraty scowled and tuned them out to pay attention to the radio commentary.

“And that’s another warning for number seventy-eight, his second in thirty minutes. I don’t know about you, Barbara, but if I had my money on him, I’d be feeling pretty nervous right about now . . .”

“It’s the hills that get ‘em, Tom, same spot every year, we always lose at least one along this stretch.”

“The smart spectators set up shop right along here to try to catch one of the early tickets. It might not be as thrilling as catching those few final buys but you just can’t beat the view, honestly if-it-were-me-I’d-OH, first warning for number four, dropped down to 3.8, better pick up the pace there, scamp, you’ve got a long way to go, yet.”

Jan entered the room delicately, like she was afraid a loud footstep might set Garraty off. He gave her a wan smile and patted the armchair. “Hey, miss.”

“How’re you doing today?”

Garraty could only shrug at that. There was no point lying to Jan, she’d only see through it.

“I’ve spent all day imagining an alternate dimension where you never fell,” Jan said, leaning her elbows on her knees. “Just replaying it, over and over. Wondering where you’d be, and where I’d be, and how I’d be feeling. Wondering if you’d still be walking.”

Garraty scoffed. “Jeez, Jan, give me some credit.”

“I’m just _saying_. I’m picturing all the things, all the different scenarios. And I’m so glad I’m in this one.”

“Mm.”

Jan touched Garraty gently on the shoulder. The warmth of her fingertips was welcome. It’d been a cold day, despite the spring sun’s heat. “What can I do?”

Garraty shrugged again, then sighed. “I wanna go.”

“Go? On the Walk?”

“Not on it, obviously. Well, I _do_ , but I can’t. I wanna go _to_ it. If I could, I’d jump in my car right now, if it weren’t for this _goddamn_ leg.” He flourished towards his cast in disgust.

Jan tilted her head in thought, her long hair falling over her shoulder in a silken curtain. “I’ll drive you.”

Garraty started. “. . . really?”

“Can it wait ‘til tomorrow?”

“Yeah, yeah of course.”

“Then, I’ll drive you. We’ll make a trip of it.”

Garraty stared at her, awestruck. She said it so offhandedly, like it was a trip down the road, and not a several-hour drive across the state. “Jan . . . I . . .”

“Whatever you need,” Jan said. “It’s you and me, Ray. Yeah?”

Garraty felt, not for the first time, that he simply did not deserve her.

“We’ll find a spot without many people,” she said. “I can’t see you fighting through those crowds right now.”

Garraty laughed. “I’ll beat them out of my way with a crutch.”

“ _Ray_.”

“I’m joking!”

Jan rolled her eyes, but she was giggling. “Let’s get you some closure, then.”

Sure. Closure.

Garraty could think of a thing or two that might help him in that department.

Step one. Find McVries and demand a goddamn explanation.

*

They left just after ten in the morning. Initially, Jan had wanted to travel up and back in the same day, but Garraty pointed out that it’d be putting her on the road without a driving partner for almost six hours, and they’d surely be better off finding a cheap motel somewhere. So, they both packed an overnight bag, and Garraty tucked McVries’ notes into it. Then, second-guessing himself, he folded them into his jeans pocket instead. He wanted to hold onto them.

Jan tried to make cheerful conversation the whole, long drive, but Garraty wasn’t much in the mood for talking. His leg was throbbing, a deep pain that seemed to start in the marrow and radiate outwards and upwards until his fingertips ached. What he wouldn’t give to be uninjured and whole, walking out in the open. Not bound and trapped with no control.

He would have to be careful with his anger. Talking to the walkers was fine, but interfere and he could find himself in a dark room being asked to explain himself. Even if he wanted to give McVries the migraine of a lifetime, and break _him_ , and take things from him. He would have to be satisfied with an explanation.

And McVries would give him one . . . right? What did he have to lose? He’d won, after all. He was in Garraty’s place.

“What are you going to do when we get there?” Jan asked.

Excellent question.

After a lifetime of driving, they finally pulled into a side street just outside of the nearest town, the closest Jan could get them to the Walk without Garraty needing to traipse for miles on crutches. She helped him out of the car—he hated that—and they found a relatively crowd-less spot by the barriers, right up front.

A little up the road to their left was a small family taking shade under a tree. A young couple and their toddler. The woman leaned against the tree while she talked to her husband, and the toddler paid them no interest, wandering a couple of feet away to follow a grasshopper through the grass blades.

Garraty felt it was in poor taste to bring such a little kid along to something like this. But at least it was an early leg, he guessed. And at least the kid wouldn’t remember it. All in all, it wasn’t any worse than his own dad bringing him here as a kid.

They felt the walkers coming before they saw them. The air seemed to vibrate differently, as the chatter and calls from far distant spectators began to pick up. Jan squeezed Garraty’s hand. Her skin was soft and plump, like it’d just been moisturized.

Garraty held tight to Jan’s hand and pulled her to face him. “Jan, this is gonna sound real weird, but . . . would you mind if I walked a ways up the road? Just so I can be by myself for a few minutes?”

Jan looked about as offended as he’d predicted. “Are you for real? After I drove you all this way?”

“I know, I know-I-know, but . . .” he grappled for a good reason. “I just need some space to grieve. Just for a few minutes. I don’t—want to . . .”

“Cry,” Jan filled in for him. “It’s not a dirty word, Ray.”

Sure, he’d go with that. “Right.”

“You can cry in front of me.” She took his hand between both of hers, and he felt all the more rotten. She scanned his face, and must have seen something in it, because she gave a one-sided shrug. “If you must.”

He planted a kiss on her turned cheek and made his way down the road. He still didn’t have the knack of his crutches, so it was painstaking. The couple hopped out of his way, the woman holding her child back with one hand to let him pass. He found a spot far away enough that Jan wouldn’t be able to hear him, even if he was raising his voice. Not over the din of dozens of chatting walkers, anyway.

When he saw the first of the boys, he felt his breath catch in his throat. It was eerie to see them approach, a slow, steady marathon, broken off into clusters. The vanguard consisted of two brown-skinned boys wearing leather jackets, matching each other’s paces. They walked in a sort of shuffle, their stares distant. It surprised Garraty to see them looking this exhausted. To him, nine AM the day before seemed so recent. Like barely minutes had passed since. These boys looked as though they’d been walking a year.

The first walker from McVries’ note approached. Abraham, a boy with skin so white it was almost fluorescent, and Parker, a blond in a polo shirt with a nasty expression. Would he really have been friends with them? Would that be where he was walking right about now?

Wait, what was he thinking? Of course it wouldn’t, because McVries made that shit _up_.

Still, he stared at the boys intensely as they passed. Abraham noticed him first, and tapped Parker on the arm. _Check out the creepy bastard over there._ Parker raised an eyebrow at Garraty, who finally averted his eyes.

He finally spotted McVries about halfway through the group, in deep conversation with Olson, a lanky twig of a guy. Another guy on McVries list. Had McVries sought Olson out to make friends with him, to fulfil the sick fantasy he seemed so convinced of?

Garraty shuddered.

McVries looked different. Only two days ago, he looked soft, if stubborn. He’d seemed collected, sure of himself. This McVries had a hard stare directed at the ground, and purple bags under his eyes. He was walking with a very slight limp, and his arms were drawn in, like he was closing himself off from the world.

He’d never notice Garraty staring at the ground like that.

“Hey,” Garraty called, softly enough Jan wouldn’t be able to hear. “Hey!” a little louder. “McVries! Peter McVries.”

McVries’ head whipped up, and his eyes settled on Garraty. There was no recognition there. A few of the boys looked around curiously. Olson turned to Mcvries. _Who’s that?_ Garraty read his lips. McVries gave a convincingly bewildered shrug.

He wasn’t coming over. Garraty cursed under his breath. “HEY! I need to talk to you!”

Olson was smirking now, and McVries gave Garraty a wary look. They were almost level now, so Garraty took a few steps with his crutches to keep the pace as McVries came over, his hands shoved in his pockets. “What is it?”

Somehow, McVries’s voice seemed more familiar to him than his own. He’d replayed his words so often over the last forty eight hours, he almost felt as though McVries’s voice had always been in his life. Garraty panted as he propelled himself forward on his crutches, unsteady on the soft ground.

“What _is it_? What do you _think it is_ , I want to—”

“Hold on,” McVries said, coming to a stop. “You’re never gonna go fast enough, and if I’m gonna get a warning I might as well get a rest thrown in.” he bent one leg and grabbed his ankle to stretch it. “Go on?”

How could he act so casual? Garraty gaped, then tried to collect his thoughts. He had, what, a minute to get his point across? “I want to say fuck-you-very-much for the other day. My goddamn leg’s broken, and I had to drop out.”

“Oh.” McVries kicked his leg out as though to get the blood rushing through. “I’m sorry for your loss, but you’ll have to excuse me, because I don’t know who the hell you are, so.”

“You don’t—you broke into my house the day before yesterday and knocked me out. Ring a bell?”

“Warning! Warning, sixty!”

McVries already had a grin touching the corner of his mouth, and he broke into a wide, amused smile at this. “Um, listen, you’ve got the wrong guy. I should get back, so—”

“You think I’d forgot your face?” Garraty hissed. “ _Yours_?”

McVries blinked, his smile gone. Was that hurt in his eyes, or had Garraty imagined it? “In New Jersey?” he asked.

“No, you asshole. Pownal.”

“There’s your problem. Ask anyone you like, I was in Possaic until I got my call ten-thirty night before last. Flew in on the red-eye. There must be some other scarred vigilante at large. Maybe change your locks, huh?” McVries shook both legs out, then started moving again.

“ _Wait_ , wait, no, you don’t get it, I was meant to be in the walk. It was _you_ , you—you gave me these.” Garraty wrenched the folded letters from his pocket. The top note was the letter addressed to the woman named Katrina.

“Warning! Second warning, sixty!”

McVries glanced at the paper, then something flashed in his eyes. He ducked in at an angle that blocked their hands from the nearest half-track and snatched the letters from Garraty’s hands, tucking them into his jean’s waistband.

When he looked back at Garraty, there was unmistakable fear in his eyes.

Garraty wasn’t there yet. He was still stuck in confusion.

“I have to go,” McVries said, turning on his heel and hurrying back to the middle of the road. To safety, Garraty thought idly. Because he was a little bit scared of Garraty, wasn’t he? Unsettled, at best.

Garraty watched as McVries pulled the letters out. Unfolded one, scanned it. Unfolded the next, scanned that.

Jan was marching up to Garraty now, holding her palms out in a question. Just as she reached Garraty, McVries called out, far away enough that his voice was half-snatched away by the wind. “HEY! WHO ARE YOU?”

“GARRATY!” Garraty shouted back, causing Jan to jump. “RAY GARRATY!”

There was no physical way for Garraty to catch back up to McVries now. He’d walked too far, and he was right, Garraty couldn’t keep up four miles an hour on crutches. It couldn’t be done. So the Walk swept McVries onwards, until Garraty couldn’t see him anymore.

“ _What_ was all that about?” Jan demanded. “What’s going on, Ray? Do you know that guy?”

Garraty didn’t answer her.

They had to go further.

He had to speak to McVries again.


	5. Chapter Five

“ _Further_?” Jan asked flatly.

They were sitting at a café, waiting for their sandwiches to be brought over.

Garraty hadn’t spoken much at all since his talk with McVries, despite Jan’s prodding. It was amazing she kept the energy up to press him like she did. Not just today, but any day. When Garraty withdrew, it must be like banging on an iron door hoping it might spring open from the force of a lone fist. Useless and only likely to cause pain to the person seeking access. But Jan was a presser. And so Garraty had told her his plan. Not the why of it, of course. He wasn’t sure quite how to explain that to her, so it seemed safer to not attempt an explanation at all.

“Somewhere around Haynesville, I’m thinking. We can grab dinner there, after.” That would be about four hours from now, give or take. Plenty of time to reset McVries, assuming he didn’t get himself many warnings in the next five hours. Assuming he didn’t get a ticket in the next five hours, too, Garraty realized. “It’s barely a twenty-minute drive for us. Come on, what else were we gonna do today?”

Jan shrugged. “Um, I don’t know, Ray, _anything else_ except for killing time in _Haynesville_ for the entire afternoon?”

“We don’t need to hang there! We can go wherever you want, as long as we end up there by six.”

“But Ray, what are you trying to achieve here? Is this just masochism?”

Garraty just stared at her, waiting, until she acquiesced.

She always did.

*

The sun was getting low in the sky by the time the walkers came into sight again.

Garraty had begged Jan for some privacy this time, but she’d put her foot down, standing firmly by his side. There was nothing he could do about it. She’d hear whatever she heard, and what she chose to make of it was her business. He wasn’t going to _not_ follow it up just to avoid her judgement or confusion. And he anticipated both.

Even in the last several hours, the walkers had aged. Their legs seemed to move separately to their bodies, as though disconnected. The legs kept pace. The bodies were eerily still. Eyes staring and glazed. Fists clenched, or otherwise, fingers hanging limp. Black bags hung beneath each pair of eyes. Skin, dull, red and leathery from the sun. Less observable was the change in vibe. It was hard to explain, but only hours before, the boys had looked as though they were walking toward something. Now, they seemed to be walking away from something. They walked like death was following at their heels, and their only hope was to outpace it. But death had endless energy. Humans didn’t.

Garraty subconsciously drew closer to Jan.

 _Could_ he have walked forever, if he’d been part of that group?

Standing here, with the same ground beneath his feet, the same late afternoon sun warming his skin, and it felt more real than it had in his imagination. He wasn’t sure anymore. 

It was Parker who noticed Garraty first, again. He was almost surprised to be recognized, then he remembered his leg, and crutches. Probably weren’t many guys hobbling up to get a front row view of the Walk, he supposed.

Parker lit up when he saw Garraty, and turned around to crow at the crowd behind him, _“Hey, McVries, your guy is here again!”_

Garraty scanned the walkers, but saw no sign of McVries. Parker had obviously just been yelling a message down the grapevine. But something in Garraty’s stomach tightened. This meant McVries was still alive. Probably. Probably, Parker would know if he’d bought his ticket.

Sure enough, a minute or so later, McVries came into view. There were a few guys gathered around him, and all were staring at Garraty. The group whispered amongst themselves, then McVries broke away alone. His expression was serious.

“Do you have any warnings?” Garraty called out before McVries reached him.

“One,” McVries said back.

“Ray, who’s that?” Jan asked.

“Someone I used to know; I’ll explain later.”

Maybe. But probably not.

“Where did you get those letters?” McVries demanded.

“I told you. You gave them to me the day before the Walk.”

“And I told you I didn’t. I was in Passaic, for Christ’s sake.”

“I know, I believe you.” And in that moment, against all reason, Garraty realized he did. He shouldn’t, he couldn’t, but he did. “Listen, something’s going on. You just appeared in my room, out of nowhere, told me you’d been on the Walk with me, and that we—we both died, or something, I guess, and you tried to get me to pull out. You said we both regretted getting in, and then you did _this_ to me.” Ray gestured toward his leg.

Jan grabbed his arm. “ _Ray._ ”

She thought he was crazy.

So did McVries. He was shaking his head.

Garraty pulled out the last piece of proof that he had. The note McVries had written to him.

“You gave this to me,” he said, showing McVries. “Y-you mention Parker, and Olson, and Baker, and Pearson, and a bunch of others. Is this your handwriting or not?”

McVries had gone pale again. “It is, but . . .”

“How would I have this? And the letters to your parents, and Katrina. _How would I have those?_ ”

“It doesn’t make any sense.”

“I _know_.”

But that was that. There was nothing more to say, he guessed. He’d given McVries everything. Told him everything he knew. He’d done his bit, and more.

The worst part was, there probably wouldn’t be an answer. He would simply go, and McVries would walk on. And he’d probably die. And neither of them would know.

“I’ll be in Enfield,” Garraty said suddenly. “Try not to have any warnings.”

“ _Ray_ ,” Jan protested, but Garraty waved a hand to shush her.

McVries studied him with bleak eyes. They were tired eyes. For a moment, Garraty wondered if McVries was going to tell him not to bother. That he probably wouldn’t be here by Enfield. Their numbers had culled already. By then, they’d have thinned out a bit more.

But maybe the curiosity got the better of him, because McVries gave Garraty a curt nod. “I’ll make sure,” he said. With that, he turned back to join the other boys.

Garraty glanced at Jan, who was wide eyed and bewildered. “What do you mean he broke your leg? You said it was an accident.”

“I lied.”

“But he said he can’t remember doing it.”

“Mm. But I remember him doing it. And you just saw him admit it’s his handwriting on the notes he left with me.”

“But he thinks he was in New _Jersey_?” Jan pressed. “Surely he can’t have gone from New Jersey to Maine and back in a day?”

“And back again,” Garraty added. “He was back in Maine for the Walk.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense.”

“Nope, it makes no sense at all.” Garraty hugged his arms to his chest and directed his attention back to the walk.

“Ray, you’re scaring me.”

 _Welcome to the club_ , Garraty thought.

“My foot, _my foot_!”

The nearby cry caused Garraty and Jan to whip around. It was number one, a small, thin boy with sandy blond hair. He’d doubled over, precariously keeping his balance while clutching at his right foot. A soldier on the closest half track watched him with an impassive expression. “Warning. Warning number one.”

The last straggling walkers winced and gave Number One a wide berth. Then, with an anguished scream, Number One fell to his knees, now holding the arch of his other foot. “No, no, please, I just need a minute.”

“Second warning number one.”

Jan grabbed Garraty’s arm with a gasp. The few people watching beside them hummed in anticipation.

Number One was massaging both feet with frantic fingers, panting with the effort. “Come _on_ ,” he roared, tipping his head back as he worked. “Come _on_.”

“Warning. Third warning number one.”

“Hurry up,” Jan whispered, squeezing Garraty’s arm tighter.

But he didn’t hurry up. He was still on the ground when his head exploded in a BANG of torn flesh and blood. His body was thrown backwards with the force, and he lay, the top part of his head ripped off, the gaping hole displaying parts of exposed skull to the crowd.

Jan’s scream was shrill and drawn out. It didn’t seem to have an end.

Garraty didn’t have the ability to scream. But he did think he might throw up.

The crowd exploded in claps, moans and cries. Garraty couldn’t tell if people were horrified or thrilled at their luck. He guessed it was a mixture of both.

The world was light, and floating, as Jan begged him to back away from the road.

It was his own body, lying there.

His skull that’d been shattered open. 

His blood pooling beneath him, and flecking the asphalt in droplets. Like rain. A spring shower.

Without his leg now, he could barely move. He couldn’t walk a foot without his crutches, let alone an endless stretch of road.

And you couldn’t rely on your limbs. Bones broke. Feet cramped. Blisters formed.

You couldn’t walk on a leg that wouldn’t hold your weight.

You couldn’t outrun a gun if it turned on you.

And there weren’t concessions for fairness.

Garraty did throw up, then. Jan cried out and grabbed him under his arms to help him hold his balance as he did. The acid burned on the way up, and it helped snap the world back into focus.

Jan’s hands were real.

This was real.

It wasn’t his body, because he hadn’t made it to the Walk. And that was reality.

But he couldn’t help feeling like somewhere, simultaneously, there was another reality where he had walked. And it had been his blood.

Because he _couldn’t_ outwalk a gun if he lost his legs. And sometimes, you lost your legs.

“Ray, did you hear me?”

Garraty blinked and shook his head.

“I want to go home.”

He shook his head again. “I need to go to Enfield. I need to talk to him.”

“No. You’re coming home with me. We’re leaving. I am _not_ going to Enfield, and you can’t get there without me. Do you hear me? We’re going. Home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed! Sorry for the delay, it was a mixture of having a lot of deadlines and figuring there weren't many people reading this given the comments. If you're there and still enjoying, please do let me know!! I really love hearing from you <3


	6. Chapter 6

They went to Enfield.

Jan made no secret of the fact that she was _not_ happy with the detour as they hovered around filling time, of course. Garraty found himself promising everything he could to get her to agree. She could get full control of the movie they saw on the next three dates. He would take her out to dinner tonight, anywhere she wanted, anywhere at all. He’d go on that tennis match double date with her nightmare friend Beth and her new beau as soon as his leg healed.

It cost him greatly, but, finally, she agreed. Of course, she _did_ barely say a word to him for the next few hours, outside of pestering him for an explanation. One that he firmly declined to provide, to her increasing frustration. She also refused to get out of the car once they’d passed Enfield and found a park as close to the walker’s route as they could. The message was clear. If Garraty wasn’t going to let her in, he was on his own. Crutches or no crutches.

It took longer than he’d hoped to reach the road. By the time he made his way to the front of the crowd—thicker than the last two times, but still passable—the walk had already started by. For a fleeting, terrifying moment, Garraty thought he might have missed McVries. Then he caught a flash of dark hair in the distance, and every muscle in his body went limp with relief.

McVries’s expression was unreadable when he spotted Garraty, but he moved right over to him. Garraty opened his mouth to greet him, and to ask how long they had, but McVries got there first.

“So, how do you know Priscilla?” McVries asked coolly. His syrupy brown eyes were hard, and his lips pressed together. He shoved his hands in his jacket pockets. He was taller than Garraty to begin with, but posing like this, with his legs apart and posture straight, he seemed to tower over him. It was obviously meant to intimidate. But Garraty wasn't the one in the firing line. The one who was never more than a couple of minutes away from death at any given moment. So, intimidated, he was not. 

But he _was_ confused. “Who?” 

“I thought on it, and there’s only one person who hates me enough to pull a joke like this on me. The only question left is, where do you come in?”

“I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

McVries raised a disbelieving eyebrow. “Bullshit.”

“Come on, what kind of joke is that?”

“You tell me!”

“You think someone you know found one of the lottery winners and convinced them to follow you around the state giving you forged letters, pretending you wrote them to yourself? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“A hell of a lot more sense than the alternative.”

“Look,” Garraty said. “I get it. You’re scared. I am too. None of this is logical, but we can’t waste time on that.”

_Warning, number sixty._

“Then what do we use this time for?” McVries asked. “What’s it good for? You’re talking to a dead man walking, Ray. Let’s say you’re telling the truth, just for the sake of argument. So what? We’re not gonna solve this mystery in the next thirty seconds. So why don’t you just head home, put up that leg of yours, and count yourself lucky you’re not here with the rest of us right now?”

Garraty shoved down a groan of frustration. “ _Obviously_ we’re not gonna figure it out right now. But don’t you see this is a sign of something? Something out there wants you to survive this, and I think I'm meant to be involved in that.”

“From your story, sounds like something wanted _you_ to survive this,” McVries said drily.

_Warning, second warning number sixty._

Both boys glanced to the half-track, before turning back to each other.

“Could you really die without knowing the answer to this?” Garraty pressed.

McVries seemed momentarily stunned, then he reeled back and let out a wry laugh. “No, I suppose not. Not if I can help it. But all of us want to live, and only one of us will.”

“But you have a reason.”

“Hell, Ray, if you’re looking for reasons to live, there’s plenty to go around here,” McVries said. His eyes were still glittering, though. Like he was sharing a joke with Garraty that only he’d caught the punchline of. “There’s a guy with a pregnant wife just up ahead. If the winner’s picked by reason to live, I’ve still lost.”

“ _Try_.”

McVries seemed taken aback by the fierceness of Garraty’s tone. “I . . . sure. I’ll try. It’s what we’re all doing.”

_Warning, third warning number sixty._

McVries shrugged and stepped back. “You sticking around?” he asked Garraty. His voice was light, like he couldn’t care less either way. But then, why ask the question?

The answer was no. It had to be no. There was no way Jan was going to agree to go any further. Literally impossible.

“Yes,” he said, for no reason at all. His mind certainly hadn’t given him permission to say yes. But there it was. “I’ll be in Augusta.”

A twinge of a smile tugged at the corner of McVries’s mouth. “Okay. See you tomorrow.”

It sounded like a promise.

*

“It’s not happening.”

“Jan, I think I need to go.”

“I said no.”

They were sitting in a booth in a crumbling diner, eating breakfast, when Garraty popped the question. He’d hoped pancakes would make her more amenable to requests. There’d been no good time to ask the night before, because Jan’s black mood had remained until they fell into fitful, chaste sleep in their motel bed. Both of them had been quieter than usual, really. Garraty suspected Jan saw the same thing he did with each blink. A flash of a head exploding. There and gone. Poof.

All in all, it wasn’t entirely unreasonable for her to be irritable.

But she didn’t understand the gravity of this.

“If I say I'm gonna be in Augusta and I'm not, it could tip him over the edge,” Garraty said. “When you’re that exhausted, you need milestones.”

“Since when are you an expert on this, Ray?”

“Since I spent weeks reading up on strategy for when _I_ entered. That’s why you and Mom were going to meet me in Freeport. You break the walk up into smaller pieces, so you know how much longer you need to go on for, then you reset with the next goal. If I'm not there, it could mess that all up for him.”

“He doesn’t know who you _are_ , remember? Why would he care if you’re there or not? I wouldn’t.”

“You would. If someone promised you they’d see you if you made it that far, you would.”

Jan sighed and stabbed at her pancakes with a fork. “I need to go back home. I have a geometry assignment I haven’t started, and Mom’s expecting me back.”

“Don’t you think someone’s life is more important than geometry?”

The look she gave him was patronizing. “I honestly think you’re overestimating your importance in this guy’s life.”

“Excuse me.”

Jan and Garraty turned to look as one. In the booth behind them sat two girls who looked to be in their late teens or early twenties. The one who spoke had short blond hair cut asymmetrically in a way that reminded Garraty distinctly of a member of a boyband, although he couldn’t quite put his finger on who. She folded her arms on the back of Garraty’s booth, sitting backwards on her seat. The other girl, whose hair was auburn and reached down to her shoulders, sat primly, giving Garraty an awkward smile.

Garraty pursed his lips. “Yeah?”

“If you need a ride, we’re following the walk, too.”

The girl didn’t _look_ like the serial killer type. Her face was friendly, and she was clean. She smelled like spices and musk. Garraty wasn’t sure exactly what a serial killer smelled like, but he felt sure it wasn't spices and musk.

“That’s okay,” Jan said. “Thank you, though.”

“Where to?” Garraty asked over Jan.

“To the end.” The girl looked over her shoulder at her companion and smiled. “It’s our tradition. Third year running. It usually wraps up around New Hampshire, give or take.”

The other girl piped up in a light, chirpy voice. “We could bring you back here with us, of course,” she said. “Unless you had another way home. Do you live nearby?”

Garraty blinked and took a moment to reply. This was all happening a little too fast for his liking. “Pownal.”

“Got a lift from here to Pownal at the back end?”

“Ray,” Jan whispered.

“I could probably figure something out,” Garraty said, “Sure. But what’s the plan? Are you staying in motels?”

The blond grinned, an infectious, charming sort of grin. “Camping.”

“ _No_ ,” Jan said firmly. “Thank you, but no.”

“You wanna see your friend, don’t you?” the blond girl asked.

Garraty hesitated again, then, with a rush of certainty, nodded.

Jan stood up in place. “Ray, can I please speak with you for a moment?”

He followed her a few paces away—a feat to get to on crutches—where she hissed. “Are you crazy? In no universe is it okay for you to go off with two strange girls and _camp with them_ while you follow around some guy you don’t know because you had a dream about him visiting you at your house!”

Garraty grabbed her hands. “Then come with me. Please. We can leave your car at a garage here or something. Think of it as an adventure.”

“No.”

“I want to do this with you-”

“No, Ray, _please_.”

“-but I'm doing it either way.”

Several expressions crossed her face at once. Confusion melted into despair which melted into cold anger. “If you do this, don’t expect me to be waiting for you when you come home.”

“Um, just jumping in,” the blond girl called out from her booth. “Sorry. I could hear you. Um, you don’t need to worry about him with us. He’s not our type.”

Her companion laughed into her coffee.

Jan shot them a withering look, and turned back to Garraty. “I'm serious.”

Garraty scanned her face, desperate for a sign that she was bluffing. He found nothing. All there was left to say, then, was, “Okay. Well. I hope we mean more to you than that. But I guess we’ll see when I get back.”

Jan gaped. “You hope we mean more to _me_? Which one of us is devaluing our relationship here, exactly?”

“I'm sorry. But I have to do this.”

“But you won’t even tell me _why_ ,” she begged. “If you’re actually about to turn around and leave me here, I deserve a better explanation.”

But there was nothing he could give her. She’d heard as much of the truth as she possibly could, and it hadn’t meant a thing to her, because it was _ludicrous_. The truth made Garraty sound like he was losing his grip on reality. He barely believed himself.

So, he did the only thing he could do. He shrugged and shook his head.

Jan barked a laugh, then turned on her heel. “Unbelievable,” she said. “ _Unbelievable_.”

The worst thing was, she was in the right. He knew it, wholly and irrefutably.

But that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind. It wasn’t possible for him to just walk away from this. He was in too deep. He had to follow this impossible mystery to its end.

At the very, very least, he had to go to Augusta. If he didn’t, and McVries bought his ticket anytime soon after, that would be that. A scar on his conscience that would haunt him until the day he took his last breath.

“Jan, please,” he called to her retreating figure. “ _Jan_.”

The door slammed closed behind her.

Garraty stood staring through the window as she stormed to her car and started it. Then, slowly, he turned to look at the two girls. The blond one was grimacing. “So,” she said. “Guess your only option is onwards.”

*

Garraty added up what he knew as he sat in the back of the camper van.

Peter McVries, in some form or another, had been in his bedroom. That was a given. Garraty had seen his face and his outfit with his own eyes.

Peter McVries may or may not have been solid. It was entirely possible that Garraty had been panicked and confused, and imagined things going right through him. But he could still clearly picture it. It had looked real. He’d been looking right at him as objects went straight through him. Plus, if he was as dead as he’d insisted, that did add up.

Although he was still, apparently, solid enough to cause physical damage. Was he a . . . what was that movie? Poltergeist? Ghosts that could interact with the physical world? Or were they demons? Garraty couldn’t quite remember and his head was starting to throb.

Whether it was the real McVries in his bedroom, or a phantom version, or whatever, the McVries who was on the walk seemingly had no memory of this. That, or he was an excellent liar. After all, maybe he wasn’t in New Jersey that day. Maybe he only said that to throw Garraty off the scent. In all fairness, the chances of Garraty contacting McVries’s family to interrogate them was low.

But even though that seemed like the most logical option by far, something in Garraty’s gut discounted this theory. It was impossible to describe, but something in McVries’s eyes when he saw the notes told Garraty he wasn’t lying. That had been real bewilderment. Real fear.

So . . . what?

“You’re an awfully quiet passenger, you know,” the blond girl, who’d introduced herself as Amy earlier in the day, said as she drove. “I keep forgetting you’re in the back there.”

The auburn-haired girl, named Lina, caught Garraty’s eyes in the rear view mirror and offered him a small smile.

“It’s been a big few days,” Garraty said. “Sorry.”

“No, no apology necessary. It must be hard.”

“What?”

“Losing a friend to the walk.”

Garraty picked at a lint ball on his shirt. “I haven’t lost him yet.”

The girls exchanged a glance with each other that Garraty could only describe as _pitying_. “Sure,” Amy said, turning the radio up. “That’s the spirit. I like that.”

_. . . warning for number sixty-one._

Garraty’s stomach turned in alarm, before he remembered sixty-one wasn’t McVries. He was sixty. Sixty-one had been his incorrect guess.

“How many was that?” Lina asked.

“I missed it.”

Night had fallen. They were about a half hour out of Augusta, which placed the walkers well ahead of the van, for now. Garraty frowned as he stared out the window, watching the repetitive landscape roll by. Just trees, and grass, and the odd house. Maybe a horse or two spotted here and there.

He wondered what it must be like to be walking through the darkness, unsure if you’d ever see daylight again.

He wondered if McVries was warm enough.

Then he caught himself. _What a stupid thing to think. Why does it matter? A bit of cold won’t kill him. You just need him to survive._

But it did matter. He’d spoken to this guy for a grand total of ten minutes, give or take, and the majority of those minutes had been an extremely unpleasant experience. But, he guessed, McVries was humanized for him now, for better or worse. It’s one thing to hear about the deaths of a faceless person. But if it’s someone you know, and who knows you exist in return? Someone you’ve heard the husky voice of, and smelled the sweat of, and felt the radiating body heat of? How do you help but care about that?

You’d have to be heartless not to, Garraty decided.

_And sixty-one has bought his ticket! Oh, what a disappointment. For a second there I thought he might be able to recover from this._

A faceless death. Not faceless to someone, to be sure. But faceless, at least, for him.

Was it sick to feel relief for a stranger’s death? Probably. But if the only way McVries could make it through this was if others died in his place, then Garraty wanted them to fall.

He didn’t smile at the announcement. But his heart didn’t break, either.

“Wish he’d held on for a bit,” Lina grumbled. “We might have seen it.”

“Have you two seen someone get their ticket, yet?” Garraty asked.

“No,” said Lina. She seemed genuinely disappointed about it, too. “You?”

“Yeah. In Haynesville.”

The girls made matching sounds of envy and excitement. “Oh my god,” said Amy. “What was it like?”

“Horrible,” Garraty snapped.

The girls glanced back at him, then at each other. He was starting to feel like the subject of their shared, silent judgment. Maybe he should try and interact with them more. If they decided to dump him on the side of the road with his crutches and overnight bag, he’d be pretty well screwed.

“It was just . . . worse than I thought,” he said grudgingly. “To see someone die right in front of you.”

“Man,” Lina said, shaking her head. “We should’ve gone to Haynesville.”

Garraty let his head fall back. Great. He was trapped in a van with a couple of sadists.

This was an excellent life choice.

*

When they reached the crowd in Augusta, Garraty realized, to his dismay, that there was no possible way for him to get to the front. It was several rows thick, thrumming with noise, people pressed shoulder to shoulder.

That’s when Garraty discovered the real reason the girls had been so keen for him to join their pack. His crutches provided the perfect excuse to cut in.

“Excuse me,” Amy bellowed, tapping people on the shoulders. “Our friend’s got a broken leg. He needs to lean against the barrier. Excuse us. Broken leg. Make room. He’s on crutches.”

Well, for a bunch of savages eager to have their bloodlust quenched, the crowd was awfully considerate when they noticed Garraty’s plight. Bit by bit they made their way through, until the three of them had successfully squeezed into prime position in the front row.

“That,” Lina said as they collected themselves. “Was remarkably efficient.”

“Now we know what to do next year,” Amy agreed.

“What, break your leg?” Garraty asked.

“You don’t need a broken leg to get a cast and crutches.”

Garraty shook his head and laughed despite himself.

It wasn’t long until the vanguard came into sight. The crowd cheered, an excited buzz growing into thunderous applause as the first walkers passed. The walkers themselves barely seemed to notice the crowd. Like animals in a zoo, they’d gotten accustomed to the gawking. They looked at each other, or at the road, or somewhere in the indefinable distance.

A tall boy with wispy blond hair, purple pants and a green sweater caught Garraty’s eye, and started heading towards the shoulder. Garraty had noticed him before in the crowd of walkers. It was hard not to. His appearance straddled the line of bizarre, then crossed over it without a glance backwards.

“Ray, is it?” the boy asked.

Garraty nodded.

“Your man Pete’s at the back. But I'd brace myself if I were you. It’s not good.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break there, everyone. I've been utterly snowed under with writing deadlines. I do intend to finish this, though! Thank you to everyone who left comments <3


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